


A Meeting of Significance

by notjustmom



Series: Alternatively... [2]
Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes - Arthur Conan Doyle
Genre: Book: A Study in Scarlet, Episode: s01e01 A Study in Pink, Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-01-10
Updated: 2016-03-24
Packaged: 2018-05-13 01:27:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 18
Words: 5,684
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5689309
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/notjustmom/pseuds/notjustmom
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The story of Sherlock Holmes and John Watson, shortly before they meet, their initial meeting at Bart's and their first case. This is part 2 of the Alternatively verse.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. 27 January -29 January 2010: Sherlock

27 January 2010. 

Every year since she left on her 18th birthday, he took to the streets, in search of her. Just one day a year he would allow himself to think of her. He would wander past his old haunts, the places he couldn't enter without the fear he would break his promise to Lestrade, and lose the only thing in his life that made sense, The Work. He didn't need anyone, just a stream of endless puzzles to keep his mind from cracking open.

 

28 January.

"Three suicides...same drug...different parts of town, different classes of people...interesting."

"Wrong!" - SH

"You know where to find me.:" - SH

 

29 January.

"You weren't wearing lipstick before."

"I just, erm, refreshed it a bit. Listen, uhm, do you want to have coffee sometime?"

"Black, two sugars, I'll be upstairs."

 

"Mike, can I borrow your phone. There's no signal on mine."

"Sorry, left it in my coat. What's wrong with the landline?"

"I prefer to text."

"Here. Use mine."

"Old friend of mine, John Watson."

"Hmmm? Thank you. Afghanistan or Iraq?"

"Sorry?"

"Which was it? Afghanistan or Iraq?"

"Afghanistan. How-"

"Molly-coffee, thank you. How do you feel about the violin? I tend to play it all hours, helps me to think, I don't speak for days on end...flatmates should know the worst about each other."

"Flatmates? Who said anything about flat-"

"I did. I just complained to Mike this morning I'm not an easy person to find a flatmate for. This afternoon, he brings an old friend recently invalided from Afghanistan who is looking for cheap accommodations..."

"You told him about me."

"Nope."

"Got my eye on a nice little place in central London, together we should be able to afford it. Must dash, left my riding crop in the mort-"

"That's it then?"

"That's what? 

"We just met, you know nothing about me and now we are going to look at a flat together? I don't even know your name or where we are going to meet-"

Sherlock sighs. "I know you’re an Army doctor and you’ve been invalided home from Afghanistan. I know you’ve got a brother who’s worried about you but you won’t go to him for help because you don’t approve of him – possibly because he’s an alcoholic; more likely because he recently walked out on his wife. And I know that your therapist thinks your limp’s psychosomatic – quite correctly, I’m afraid..."

John looks at him, opens his mouth, then slams it shut again.

"The name is Sherlock Holmes and the address is 221 B Baker Street. 7pm tomorrow?"

John nods, speechless as his life is spread out before him, by this apparently psychic mad scientist with indescribable eyes and dark curling hair. Speechless, yet hopeful. Hopeful in a way he doesn't understand. All he knows is that he has an appointment at 7pm tomorrow that he hopes will change his life. Something has to.


	2. 27 January - 29 January 2010: John

27 January 2010

"Nothing ever happens to me." 

There. First blog entry. Complete waste of rime. Who would want to read this drivel? I barely want to live it, let alone recount it. Everything I touch eventually turns into an unmitigated disaster. Girlfriend sent me a 'Dear John' letter that was meant to get to me before I was shipped home, course it found me in rehab. Who wants a surgeon who can't do surgery any longer? Harry - she at least was happy with Clara for a bit, before she blew it. God knows what hellhole she's in now. "No forwarding address."

 

28 January

"Still nothing. Why am I doing this again?" delete delete delete....

Maybe someone is desperate enough to take me on for a flatmate...who am I kidding?

 

29 January

"Where is that box? Only so many places I could have put it, hmmm...oh yes, pistol in the duffle, ammo in...the back of the drawe-"

Walk. I need a walk. I can always do it later.

"John! John Watson!"

Damn...Mike...

"...Stamford! We were at Bart's together."

Yes, yes, of course Mike Stamford..." Mike, how are you?"

"Fat, I got fat. And I heard you were in Afghanistan getting shot at - what happened?"

"I got shot."

"...who'd want me for a flatmate?

"What, what are you smiling about?"

"Second time someone's said that today."

"Who's the first?"

"The name is Sherlock Holmes and the address is 221 B Baker Street. 7pm tomorrow?"

What could it hurt? And what the hell did he use my phone for?

If brother has green ladder   
arrest brother.   
SH

"What the hell? Hmmm wonder if he has a website...238 types of ash? How long does it take eyeballs to blow up in the microwave???? Well, at least I'll never be bored."


	3. 30 January 2010: Sherlock

He's here, a little wary, uncertain, but he's actually here. Relax, smile, be friendly, shake hands. No more deductions. Unless he asks of course.

"Mr. Holmes, hello."

"Sherlock, please."

"Looks a bit out of my league-"

"Mrs Hudson, our landlady owes me a favour, so she's given me a decent price on the rooms. Years ago, her husband was about to be executed in Florida and I was able to help her out."

"So, you stopped the execution."

"Oh, no I insured it." 

Hmmm...he's not sure why I enjoyed that so much...maybe he'll stick around long enough to hear the story... 

"Mrs. Hudson, may I introduce Dr. John Watson? Shall we?"

The stairs - the stairs could be an issue for him. Damn. No, he did it, slowly, but he did it. I should've cleaned up a bit, he's ex-military, he's going to-

"This could be very nice, very nice indeed- just needs a bit of straightening-"

"Oh, uhm, that is, quite. I was going to-"

"Sherlock, what about these suicides? Three of them? Sounds like something right up your street-"

"Four, there's been a fourth-"

"Sherlock-"

"Lestrade?"

"You know those serial suicides?"

"Yes?"

"This one's different, this one left a note. Will you come?"

"Where?"

"Brixton."

"I'll get a cab, text me the details."

"Thank you."


	4. 30 January 2010: John

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John drops the F- bomb, but only in his own Mind Palace

"Brilliant! Yes! Ah, four serial suicides, and now a note! Oh, it’s Christmas!"

Okay, so he gets off on serial suicides...but how the fuck can there be serial suicides?

"Mrs Hudson, I’ll be late. Might need some food."

"Not your housekeeper, dear."

"Just something cold will do. John, make yourself at home. Have a cup of tea-"

He's gone. Just like that. Fine. Right. Good. I'll just sit and read the paper-damn my leg.

"You’re a doctor. In fact you’re an Army doctor."

"Yes."

"Any good?"

"Very good."

I used to be. Maybe I can be again, given the chance. Maybe he can - 

"Seen a lot, I suppose. A lot of injuries, deaths..."

"Yes."

"Bit of trouble, I bet, too."

"Far too much, enough for a lifetime."

"Want to see some more?" 

"Oh, god yes."

How on earth? How did he know - doesn't matter.


	5. 30 January continued: Sherlock

"Taxi"

He has questions...sigh

"You have questions?"

"Where are we going?"

"Crime scene. Next?"

"Who are you? What do you do?"

Hmm, interesting he seems to believe those are two different questions.

"What do you think?"

What does he think....

"Hmmm, I'd say private detective, but..."

"But?"

"The police don't consult private detectives."

Goood, very good. Keep going...

"I'm a Consulting Detective, the only one in the world. I invented the job myself."

"Which means what exactly?"

"It means I'm called in when the police are out of their depth, which is always."

"The police don't call in amateurs."

Of course they don't...

"When I met you for the first time yesterday, I said, “Afghanistan or Iraq?” You looked surprised."

"How did you know?"

"I didn't know, I saw. I observed. Your haircut, the way you hold yourself, says military. But your conversation as you entered the room..."

"A bit different than in my day...ah-"

said trained at Bart’s, so Army doctor – obvious. Your face is tanned but no tan above the wrists. You’ve been abroad, but not sunbathing. Your limp’s really bad when you walk but you don’t ask for a chair when you stand, like you’ve forgotten about it, so it’s at least partly psychosomatic. That says the original circumstances of the injury were traumatic. Wounded in action, then. Wounded in action, suntan – Afghanistan or Iraq."

"The therapist?"

"You have a psychosomatic limp, of course you have a therapist."

Duh. Really.

"Then there's your brother..."

Maybe, I shouldn't, ah what the hell, in for a penny...

"My brother...go on-"

"Your phone. It’s expensive, e-mail enabled, MP3 player, but you’re looking for a flatshare – you wouldn’t waste money on this. It’s a gift, then. Scratches. Not one, many over time. It’s been in the same pocket as keys and coins. The man sitting next to me wouldn’t treat his one luxury item like this, so it’s had a previous owner. Next bit’s easy. You know it already."

"The engraving."

Harry Watson  
From Clara  
xxx 

It makes him sad? disappointed? hmmm...sentiment-

"Harry Watson: clearly a family member who’s given you his old phone. Not your father, this is a young man’s gadget. Could be a cousin, but you’re a war hero who can’t find a place to live. Unlikely you’ve got an extended family, certainly not one you’re close to, so brother it is. Now, Clara. Who’s Clara? Three kisses says it’s a romantic attachment. The expense of the phone says wife, not girlfriend. She must have given it to him recently – this model’s only six months old. Marriage in trouble then – six months on he’s just given it away. If she’d left him, he would have kept it. People do – sentiment. But no, he wanted rid of it. He left her. He gave the phone to you: that says he wants you to stay in touch. You’re looking for cheap accommodation, but you’re not going to your brother for help: that says you’ve got problems with him. Maybe you liked his wife; maybe you don’t like his drinking."

"The drinking? How can you know-"

"Shot in the dark. Good one, though. Power connection: tiny little scuff marks around the edge of it. Every night he goes to plug it in to charge but his hands are shaking. You never see those marks on a sober man’s phone; never see a drunk’s without them."

"There- you were right."

"I was right? About?"

"The police don't consult amateurs."

Look away, don't act like his opinion means anyth-

"That. was. amazing."

What???!

"You think so?"

"Of course it was, it was extraordinary, simply, breathtaking."

I'm blushing. If it was daylight, he'd definitely see it.

"Hmmm...that's not what people usually say."

"What do people usually say?"

"Piss off."

Or bugger off, freak,

or fuck off, ya weirdo....

"They're wrong."

"Did I get anything wrong?"

"You were right, Harry and I don't get on, never have. I helped Clara pick out that phone for Harry, she wasn't sure about the engraving, I told her Harry would love it. She did for about a month. Oh, and hmmm. Harry is short for Harriet."

"Sister!"

Damn.

"There's always something."


	6. 30 January continued: John

"Hello, Freak."

Oh. 

"I'm here to see Lestrade."

"Why?"

If she weren't a woman-

"I think he wants me to have a look."

"You know what I think-"

"Always, Sally...hmmm....someone didn't make it home last night..."

Oh, damn. 

"Who's this?"

"Colleague of mine, Dr. Watson-"

"Colleague? How did you get a colleague? Did he follow you home?"

"Dr. Watson, Sergeant Sally Donovan...old friend."

"Freak's here, sending him up-"

"Anderson."

"Do not contaminate my crime scene, clear?"

"Crystal. Wife out of town for a while, then?"

He's not going there - ?

"What? How - someone told you."

"No on one told me, I can tell by your deodorant."

"My deodorant?"

"It's for men."

No...damn

"Of course it's for men, I'm wearing it-"

"So is Sergeant Donovan."

Zing- Game, set and match. Guess he can dish it as well as he takes it.


	7. 30 January continued: Sherlock

"Who's this?"

"He's with me."

"But who is he?"

"I said, 'He's with me.' "

C'mon, Lestrade don't embarrass me.

"Where are we?"

"Upstairs."

Great, more stairs...

"You've got two minutes."

"May need longer."

"Her name’s Jennifer Wilson according to her credit cards. We’re running them now for contact details. Hasn’t been here long. Some kids found her."

God, all these idiots can't stop thinking their imbecilities-

"Shut up."

"I didn't say anything."

"You were thinking. It's annoying."

 


	8. First Crime Scene - The Pink Lady

Unsure of the standard procedure, John stands back a bit so not to be underfoot. Suddenly, he realizes he's lost in Sherlock's dance; first to the word 'Rache' scratched into the floor, obviously done by the woman in pink sprawled next to it, the varnished fingernails on her left hand shredded in the attempt; then to her coat, to her jewelry, focusing on her wedding ring...

John snaps back to himself when Lestrade finally speaks again: "Got anything?"

and almost laughs aloud when Sherlock grins and says "Not much."

"She's German," Anderson pipes up from the doorway, 'Rache' means revenge in German..."

Sherlock rolls his eyes, growls, 'thank you for your input' and pushes the door shut in Anderson's resigned face.

"So...she's German?"

"Of course she's not German, but she is from out of town, intending to stay in London overnight, she's from Cardiff. Obviously."

"Obviously, right - what?"

"What about the message, then?"

"What do you think, Dr. Watson?"

"About the message?"

"About the body, you are a doctor, yes?"

"No-no, Sherlock, there is a whole team waiting outside-"

"Who won't work with me."

"I'm breaking every rule just letting you in-"

"Because you need me."

God, he really does-

"Yes, yes I do, God help me."

"Dr. Watson?"

"Hmm?"

John risks a glimpse at the DI who knows he is beaten at the moment, who nods at him.

"Go ahead-Anderson keep everybody out for two minutes."

"May need longer."

"Two minutes, Sherlock."

I can't believe I'm squatting next to a corpse...

"Well?"

"What the hell am I doing here?"

"Helping me make a point-"

"I'm supposed to be helping you pay the rent."

"Isn't this a bit more fun?"


	9. First Crime Scene - The Pink Lady Part 2

"Fun? There is a woman dead on the floor!"

"Brilliant. I was hoping you'd go a bit deeper."

"Alright. Yeah ... Asphyxiation, probably. Passed out, choked on her own vomit. Can’t smell any alcohol on her. It could have been a seizure; possibly drugs."

Good-almost there-

"C'mon, think-"

"She's a suicide, like the other three that I was reading about in the paper?"

Yes!

"Sherlock, two minutes are up-gimme what you got."

"Victim is in her late thirties. Professional person, going by her clothes; I’m guessing something in the media, going by the frankly alarming shade of pink. Traveled from Cardiff today, intending to stay in London for one night. It’s obvious from the size of her suitcase."

"Suitcase."

"Suitcase, yes. She’s been married at least ten years, but not happily. She’s had a string of lovers but none of them knew she was married."

"If yer just makin' this up?!"

Sigh....

"Her wedding ring. Ten years old at least. The rest of her jewelry has been regularly cleaned, but not her wedding ring. State of her marriage right there. The inside of the ring is shinier than the outside – that means it’s regularly removed. The only polishing it gets is when she works it off her finger. It’s not for work; look at her nails. She doesn’t work with her hands, so what or rather who does she remove her rings for? Clearly not one lover; she’d never sustain the fiction of being single over that amount of time, so more likely a string of them. Simple."

"That's effing brilliant. Sorry."

"Where do you get Cardiff?"

"Obvious."

"It's not obvious to me."

"Dear God, what is it like in your funny little brains? It must be so boring."

Oh alllllright-

"Her coat: it’s slightly damp. She’s been in heavy rain in the last few hours. No rain anywhere in London in that time. Under her coat collar is damp, too. She’s turned it up against the wind. She’s got an umbrella in her left-hand pocket but it’s dry and unused: not just wind, strong wind – too strong to use her umbrella. We know from her suitcase that she was intending to stay overnight, so she must have come a decent distance but she can’t have traveled more than two or three hours because her coat still hasn’t dried. So, where has there been heavy rain and strong wind within the radius of that travel time?"

"Fantastic."

"You do know you said that aloud."

I love when you do that. Wait, what? Why does it matter?

"Sorry. I'll shut up, now."

No. Don't stop. I don't mind...

"No, it's fine."


	10. First Crime Scene - The Pink Lady Part 3

"Why do you keep sayin' suitcase?"

"Yes, where is it? She had to have had an organizer, a phone? And we need to know who Rachel is."

"She was writing Rachel?"

"No she was writing the German word for revenge! Of course she was writing Rachel. No other word it could be, question is, why did she wait until she was dying to scratch it into the floor..."

"How do you know she had a suitcase?

"Back of the right leg: tiny splash marks on the heel and calf, not present on the left. She was dragging a wheeled suitcase behind her with her right hand. Don’t get that splash pattern any other way. Smallish case, going by the spread. Case that size, woman this clothes-conscious: could only be an overnight bag, so we know she was staying one night."

"Now, where is it, did you let Anderson 'examine' it?"

"There wasn't a case."

"Say, that. again?"

"There wasn't a case."

"Suitcase! Did anyone find a suitcase? Was there a suitcase in this house?"

"Sherlock- there was no case."

"But they take the poison themselves; they chew, swallow the pills themselves. There are clear signs. Even you lot couldn’t miss them..."

"What, yeah, thanks, huh?"

"It's murder, I don't know how yet, but they are all killings, serial killings...serial killer...I love those! Always something to look forward to."

"Why are you saying that?"

"Her case! Did she eat it? Someone else drove her here and they took her case...killer drove her here, forgot about her case in the car..."

"She could have checked into her hotel-"

"Not with her hair looking like that, she colour coordinates everything, she wouldn't have left a hotel without checking a mirror-"

"Oh."

"Oh!"

"Sherlock?"

"I love serial killers, always something about them...think they are so clever...."

"We can't wait anymore-"

"Lestrade, we don't have to wait-"

"What you talking about?"

"Pink!"

And he was gone like the wind.

"Oh, uhm, did you see Sherlock?"

"Oh, yeah, he took off muttering something about pink and morons...listen...just stay away from him."

"Why?"

"He's not your friend. Freaks like him don't have friends."

"What are you on about?"

"He doesn't get paid you know, he's a psychopath, gets off on it - the rumour is a few years ago, Lestrade found him after an overdose, nearly killed him...now he just sniffs around crime scenes, it's how he gets his fix...one day, there will be a body and he will be the one who put it there."

"Why?"

"Because he gets bored. I'm just warning you, stay away from Sherlock Holmes."

"Thanks for the warning...know where I can get a cab? We're in Brixton, right?"

"Yeah, sorry, main road is up there."

What the hell have I got myself into? At the very least a flatmate who's into serial killers and gets his kicks from insulting officers, who could easily throw him in the nick...but he's brilliant, and funny, and damn if life isn't quite so boring anymore. If I could just find a cab...


	11. Criminal Mastermind...?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The meeting between John and a certain low ranking member of the government...a bit of a rewrite.

"Have a seat, John."

"You know, I have a phone, very clever and all, but you could just call me. On. my. phone."

"When one is avoiding the attention of Sherlock Holmes, one learns to be discreet, hence this place. The leg must be hurting you. Sit down."

"I don't want to sir down."

"You don't seem to be very afraid."

"Frankly, you don't seem very frightening."

"Ah yes, the bravery of the soldier, kindest euphemism for stupidity...what is your connection to Sherlock Holmes?"

"I don't have one. I just met him yesterday."

"And yet today, you have decided to move in with him and are solving crimes together, may we expect a happy announcement by the end of the week?"

"What business is it of yours?"

"Trust issues, it says here-"

"Where did you-"

"Could it be that of all the people on the planet you have decided to trust my br- Sherlock Holmes?"

"Who says I trust him?"

"I can pay you a substantial stipend for certain infor-"

"No."

"You are very loyal, very fast."

"No, I just won't spy on your brother for you."

BAKER STREET  
COME AT ONCE  
IF CONVENIENT  
-SH

"Very good, John? May I call you John?"

"No. You may not. Dr. Watson will do. I did bump into your name while researching your brother last night."

"Indeed, Dr. Watson. Find anything interesting?"

"Supposedly Mycroft Holmes is a low ranking minister in some department that probably doesn't even exist...ran into arseholes like you in Afghanistan -"

IF INCONVENIENT  
COME ANYWAY.  
-SH

"Bad intel got more of us killed...but I'm sure you don't know anything about that?"

"Since I have no clue where the fuck I am, could you please have your driver take me home?"

"Of course."

"I won't tell him about this little chat, but you know him, he will know the minute I walk in."

"Yes. I know."

"I know people claim he has no friends. He would probably even say that himself, but he has one now."

"I am counting on that, Dr. Watson."


	12. 221 B

"What are you doing?"

Hmmm...he came when I texted - took a while - wonder-

"Hmmm...nicotine patches. Impossible to maintain a smoking habit in London these days. Bad for brain work."

"Good for breathing-"

"Oh... breathing. Breathing is boring."

"Three patches?"

"It's a three-patch problem."

"Well?"

"Hmm?"

"You asked me to come, I assume there was a reason?"

"Oh. Yes...Can I borrow your phone?"

"My phone? I was across town...?"

Oh damn, he's annoyed about something...not really about me leaving him there- oh, he met...damn. But he's still here...hmm.

"I need to send a text and I didn't want to use mine, it could be recognized - Damn. You met my brother. Did he offer you money to spy on me - he did... and you said no?"

Interesting...

"I knew guys like him during the war - nothing I couldn't handle."

"I need you to send a text-number's on my desk."

"You need me to send a text?"

"Yes-"

"It's about the case?"

"Ye -"

"Jennifer Wilson's number? You want me to text a dead woman?"

"Have you typed in the number?"

"Yes, don't get your knickers in a twist-"

"Type this: 'What happened in Brixton? I must have passed out. 22 Northumberland Street, please come.' Did you send it?"

"Yes. Wait - did I - we just text a murderer? And that's the dead woman's case..."

"Jennifer Wilson's case, yes. And for the record I didn't kill her."

"I never said you did-"

"It would be a logical assumption. I said the killer took her case-"

"Do people usually assume you are a murderer?"

"Once in a while, yes."


	13. 221 B Part 2

Alright...I'll bite-

"Okay. How did you find it?"

"By looking. The murderer drove her to Brixton, and forgot about the suitcase in the trunk. He, the odds are higher that the killer is a he, had to get rid of it, and quickly. So, I searched through the alleys and dumpsters near the crime scene, til I found it, took me less than an hour."

"And you knew it had to be pink?"

"Had to be pink. Obvious."

"Why didn't I think of that?"

"Because you are an idiot. No, don't get upset, nearly everyone is an idiot."

Right. I'm still here. How did-

"So. What's missing from her case?"

"What's missing? How the fuck should I know?"

"Her phone. Where is her phone?"

Oh.

"Hmmm. Maybe she left it at home?"

"She has a string of lovers, and she's discreet about it. She would never leave her phone at home."

"So, we are waiting for the murderer to text us back."

Not bored anymore.

Ding.

"If someone had innocently found that phone, they would have ignored that text. Our murderer couldn't help himself."

"Aren't you going to call the police?"

Police would be a good idea...

"Four people dead? There isn't time to talk to the police."

"You're talking to me-"

"Hmmm. Mrs. Hudson took Billy again."

"So, I'm basically filling in for your skull."

"Relax. You're filling in admirably."

Great.


	14. An Audience/on the way to Angelo's

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One problem I had with A Study in Pink is that it took him way too long to figure out it was a cabbie, so I'm going with the idea that he is distracted by John's presence enough that his Mind Palace is a bit of a mess, especially considering how often he uses cabs...of course it is possible that like the mere mortals around him, he takes the cabbies for granted, doesn't think about them as possible suspects. I also realize they had to add in the drug bust scene, for time purposes, plus it's just a great scene...so...here goes-

"Well?"

"Well, what?"

"You could sit at home and watch telly, or..."

"You want me to come with you?"

"I like company when I go out and the skull just attracts unwanted attention - problem?"

"Sergeant Donovan-"

Shit.

"What about her?"

"She said - you know what, never mind about her. Where to?"

"22 Northumberland, five minute walk."

"You think he's crazy enough to show?"

"I think he's brilliant enough - I love the brilliant ones, always desperate to be caught."

"Why?"

"Appreciation, acknowledgment, applause...the frailty of genius, it needs an audience - "

He's actually listening to me. I'm rambling, but he's smiling and still listening right next to me - so different than Billy - strange...

"Yeah."

"He hunts, right here in the heart of the city, abducts random people, no one sees anything, no one notices these people disappearing...Damn it! Think! Who do we trust, even though we don't know them? Who can hunt in a crowd, unnoticed?"

"Dunno, who?"

It's getting late, he must be starving-interesting, why am I thinking about-oh. Goldfish? Damn...'Caring is not - shut up, Mycroft!

"Haven't the faintest idea. Hungry?"


	15. Angelo's

"22 Northumberland. Keep your eye on it."

"He isn't going to just ring the bell is he? He'd have to be mad..."

"He has killed four people."

True-

"Okay.."

"Sherlock...anything you want on the house, for you and your date..."

"The lasagne is my favourite, but get whatever you want, it's all good-"

Date? 

"I'm not his date..."

"John, this is Angelo."

"This man saved me from a murder charge."

Huh?

"Three years ago I successfully proved to Lestrade at the time of a particularly vicious triple murder that Angelo was in a completely different part of town, house-breaking."

"Cleared my name."

"Cleared it a bit. Anything happening over there?"

"Nothing. But for this man, I'd have gone to prison."

"Angelo, you did go to prison...he tends to exaggerate-"

"I'll get a candle. More romantic..."

Romantic??!

"I'm not his date! Uhm...so...you and your brother..."

"Arch-enemy, more like."

"Arch-enemy? In real life, people don't have arch-enemies."

"Hmmm?"

"People don't have arch-enemies..."

"Really? How dull. What do 'real' people have then?"

"Friends? People they like, people they don't like..."

"Like I said, sounds a bit dull."

"You don't have a girlfriend, then?"

"Girlfriend? No. Not really my area."

"Boyfriend? Which is fine-"

"I know it's fine. No."

"Unattached. Like me. Good."

"Uhmm...John...though I'm truly flattered-"

Oh. God. He thinks...

"No -"

"I consider myself married to my work, so..."

Whew. If I were, god. yes...in a minute-wait. what-

"It's fine. It's all fine."

"Good."

"You were right, the lasagne is perfect."

"Mmmm...taxi...why a taxi?"


	16. The Chase...

"Look. A taxi, no one getting in, no one getting out...just waiting...A taxi? Why a taxi? Genius! Wait...is he a genius?"

"Is that him?"

Seriously?

"Don't stare."

"You're staring."  
"We can't both stare"

Oh damn...he's not...he is...oh what the hell! Damn, he's going to get himself killed-

"Sorry!"

Damn him and his long legs...just gotta keep up 

"Got the cab number..." 

"Good for you...Right turn, one way, roadworks, traffic lights, bus lane, pedestrian crossing, left turn only, traffic lights...oh...scratch that...."

"Come on, John!"

"Come on, John! We're losing him!"

"Ahhhh! No! This way! NO! THIS way!"

"Sorry!"

"Police! Open her up - nooo...teeth, tan: what – Californian...L.A., Santa Monica. Just arrived."

"How can you possibly -"

"Luggage...It’s probably your first trip to London, right, going by your final destination and the route the cabbie was taking you?"

"Sorry - you guys the police?"

"Yeah - everything all right?"

"Yeah."

"Welcome to London."

"Er...yeah, let us know if you have any problems-"

Great...now I'm impersonating a police officer...how many more laws can I break in one night...I've lost my mind.

"Sooo...basically just a cab that slowed down..."

"Basically."

"Not the murderer."

"Not the murderer, no."

"Wrong country. Good alibi."

"As they go."

"Hey - where did you - gimme that. Detective Inspector Lestrade?"

What the...

"You can keep that one, I have plenty at the flat. I pickpocket him when he's annoying."

"Welcome to London..."

"Got your breath back?"

"Ready when you are."


	17. Back to 221 B

"Okay...that was ridiculous!"

He's giggling, that's adorable...

"That was the most ridiculous thing I've ever done."

Give me time -

"You did invade Afghanistan -"

"But that wasn't just me - why aren't we back at the restaurant?"

"If anything happens they will keep an eye out - long shot any way."

"So what were we doing?"

"Just passing the time...and proving a point-"

"Huh? Point?"

"Mrs. Hudson! John will take the room upstairs."

"Says who?"

Careful - pride...doesn't want 'help'

"The man at the door-"

"Sherlock texted me, you forgot this - "

"Oh. Oh! Yes! Thank you, thank you!"

God, when his smile makes it to his eyes....oh help - 

"Sherlock! What have you done?"

Damn!


	18. A Bust of Sorts...

"What the hell are you doing?"

"I'm not stupid, I knew you'd find the case..."

"You can't just break into my flat-"

"And you can't withhold evidence-and I didn't exactly break into your flat-"

Really? What else what you call it?

"What do you call this then?"

Hands on hips..fierce...lovely when he's angry, though I wouldn't want to be on the wrong side of that...straight, John, you're straight...

"I call it a drugs bust."

Oh god-

"I'm clean, I don't even smoke-"

"Yeah, me neither-is your flat clean?"

"I'm not your sniffer dog!"

"No, Anderson's my sniffer dog..."

"Anderson, what the hell are you doing here?"

"Actually, none of them are on the drug squad per se, they all volunteered, very keen they were..."

"Are these human eyes?"

"Put those back!"

"...in the microwave?"

"It's an experiment!"

"Keep looking...unless you will start helping properly?

"Blackmail...lovely..."

"It's our case, Sherlock, I'm letting you in on it, but you can't just go off on your own!"

"Fine! Put the eyes back, Donovan, get the hell out of my kitchen!"

"Good, let's work together then- we managed to find Rachel."

"Who is she?"

"Jennifer Wilson's only daughter."

"What? No..why would she write her daughter's name? Why?"

"Never mind that, we found the case in the flat of our favourite psychopath."

"I'm not a psychopath, Anderson, I'm a high-functioning sociopath-do your research-bring Rachel in, I need to talk to her..."

"She's dead.."

"Excellent!"

"Technically, she was never alive, she was Jennifer Wilson's stillborn daughter, born fourteen years ago-"

"No...why would she--I don't understand---it was ages ago, why would she still..."

"Not good?"

"Yeah, a bit not good."

He really doesn't see it? He doesn't feel things, he can deduce everything else but feelings, he's not so great at-

"Sociopath, right, now I see it."

"It would have hurt. She was dying, yet she used her fingernails to scratch her daughter's name into the floor...why? John-if you had been murdered, what would your last words be? What would you be thinking of?"

"Dear God, please let me live."

"Oh, please, use your imagination-"

"I don't have to."

"If you were clever, really clever..and she was, running all those lovers...she knew she was dying, she would have tried to tell us something..."

"Sherlock? Taxi? Your taxi's here-"

"Not now, Mrs. Hudson...I didn't order a taxi..."

"Everyone shut up, don't move, don't speak, Anderson turn your back, your face is putting me off!"

"My face is??!"

"Anderson, just turn 'round!"

"She was clever...she's dead and she's cleverer than you lot!"

What is he on about? 

"Rachel isn't a name...really? Oh, look at you lot. You’re all so vacant. Is it nice not being me? It must be so relaxing...Rachel ISN'T a name..."

Then what the hell...

"She didn't have a laptop, she used her phone for her email...John? read out her email address?"

"Oh, yeah...jennie dot pink at mephone dot org dot uk."

"And all together now, the password is..."

Oh...geeez...

"Rachel!"

"So what does that give us, we can read her email, so what??"

"Anderson, stop speaking, you are lowering the IQ of the entire neighborhood...it has GPS, we can track her phone..."

"Sherlock..."

"It will give us just a general area..."

"It's a start..."

"Sherlock!"

"What?!"

"It's here! At Baker Street.,,"

"How?"

"Sherlock...your taxi..."

 

COME WITH ME...

 

"I've been too slow..."

"Sherlock? You ok, mate?"

"Fine...I'm fine...just need some air..."

"Sherlock?"

He just got into a cab...what the?

"Why? Why did he do that?"

"I just met him, you know him better than I do.."

"I've known him for five years, I don't really know him, I don't think anyone does, really."

"Then why?"

"Why do I put up with him? Hmmm...because I'm desperate? I met him the first time after an overdose years ago, brilliant kid, though...he's turned into a great man...maybe some day, if we are all very lucky, he will become a good one. All right everyone, nothing else to see here, pack it up..."

Damn it, Sherlock. 

Beep  
Beep  
Beep

Shit, Sherlock, I'm coming, hold on! It's the fucking cabbie...stupid, stupid, stupid....gun? Can't hurt to take it....just hold on!

**Author's Note:**

> refreshing my memory at times with Ariane DeVere's transcript:  
> http://arianedevere.livejournal.com/43794.html?thread=567570
> 
> though playing with it a bit, as we do. ;)


End file.
